Sometimes spiritual impressions are simply a nudge.

Standing in Smith’s check-out line after picking up a few groceries early one morning, an impression landed and lit as gently and clearly as a firefly on my hand on a summer’s nite. The thought was this: “Pick up a rose and leave it on Tina’s doorstep.” Though it came crisply and seemed to crowd out other thoughts, I found myself, in a matter of seconds, in quick rebuttle-as if I had something to defend.

“But,” I thought, “there’s not even anyone in the flower department this early.” And I added a second objection: “Tina’s probably not home anyway.” As I engaged in this silent monologue, I realized that I’d nearly trampled the voice I had come to treasure, and I thought, to trust.

I then committed to follow this simple impression. Smiling, I walked over to the flower department, selected a lovely long-stem, some greens, baby’s breath and tissue. I wrapped the flower myself and made a mental tally of the prices of each item. I took my bundle to the register, paid the appropriate amount without any questions, drove to Tina’s and left the rose gently on the doorstep. I rang the doorbell but didn’t linger for a response.

The demands of the day pressed on and I thought little of the single incident until nearly a week later. Inadvertently, I discovered that that the very time the flower was placed on my friend’s doorstep, she was on the telephone with her sister who had just confirmed the doctor’s report. Her sister was diagnosed with a malignant breast tumor. After the phone call, in a difficult emotional moment, my friend went to the door, and there lay the single rose-a rose of love and comfort, an earthly token of Heavenly Father’s awareness of her personal concerns.

Enchiladas
On another occasion, I had a rare impulse to cook and freeze some enchiladas. I decided to make two large batches, without a recipe (I don’t ‘do’ Mexican typically; I ‘do’ Italian!) Just as I was about to freeze the second panful, another thought seated itself in my soul: “Why not give this batch to [Jenny]?” I thought of the phone conversation I’d had with her earlier that morning. She was in the throes of planning a wedding which was just a few days away. “Perhaps a dinner ‘would’ offer her a little respite tonite,” I mused.

Then came the first bucket of water over the gentle, prodding voice, as I quenched it with my objections. [Jenny surely has dinner planned for tonight. She's so organized." And, continuing to rationalize, I added, "Besides, maybe her family doesn't even like enchiladas! On top of that, I haven't even tasted them, and I didn't even follow a recipe." And then came the clincher, "Ugh, this is my ugliest pan! It's the pan I grill in! I can't possibly give them 'this!"" Finally, after several minutes of building my case, I caught myself in the act. I saw every rationalization as a pail of water dampening the Spirit, and I thought of the scripture in Thessalonians, "Quench not the Spirit" (1 Thes 5:19).

I decided to rekindle the voice-acknowledging that the best reasoning is always to follow the Spirit. I dropped off the grungy pan of enchiladas with a little note. And then I resumed my personal affairs.

As I pulled into the garage several hours later, I noticed [Jenny's] van pulling up behind me. I was surprised to see her, in fact, a little startled. Then I noticed her tears. She threw her arms around me and said, “I can’t believe someone would do that for me. I feel so loved. I don’t usually feel overwhelmed like this. It has been so long since I cried the way I did this morning as I laid in bed.”

What if I had neglected to offer Heavenly Father’s gift to these women? My heart spurns the thought. I almost missed those opportunities. God uses us to get those celestial Fed Exes to those He loves. He doesn’t always hand-deliver Himself–though He can. Perhaps my near-misses can alert us and help us to commit more fully to following the promptings we plead for.

Quenching the Spirit
On a third occasion, I actually did quench the Spirit. Notice, again, the simplicity of the prompting, and how easy it is to have reason raid our faith, as the apostle Paul once inferred. I’d borrowed a short book from a friend and read it that evening. My husband read it the next day. I felt a sense of urgency about returning it, and couldn’t figure out exactly why. I’m not typically a fast reader, and I thought that if I returned the book so soon, it might seem that I was trying to make some kind of impression. Still, the feeling to return the book persisted. I hopped in the car intending to drop it off, and realized I didn’t have Toni’s house number. I felt inclined to return to my house and get it, but I dismissed the feeling. I rationalized, “She’s probably at school now anyway.”

The following Sunday I learned that my friend’s mother-in-law had passed away, and that had I returned the book when I felt so compelled to do so, I would have shown up at her door at the time of her death and when my friend needed someone the most. I missed that opportunity.

These few experiences occurred several years ago. There a gazillion each of us could share-many with more visible, lasting effects. I chose these for their simplicity.

Our responsiveness is essential. Hopefully, I’ve improved. I know that the choice to follow the Spirit carries atomic spiritual weight. It has a rippling effect for good that is beyond our immediate vision and capacity to imagine. I know that the voice can be obscured by our own, or by pre-occupation, or by inordinate numbers of meetings. May we listen more to the still small voice. There are many celestial packages hand-wrapped and just waiting to be delivered.